


Home Before Dark

by sunshineinwriting



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Dominance, M/M, Power Dynamics, Wolf Pack, totaolly fic exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineinwriting/pseuds/sunshineinwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FairyTale!AU. Tao is an infamous red-haired werewolf hunter who meets his match in the form of a charismatic, mysterious man. But not everything is as it seems, and soon Zitao finds his beliefs shaken and his world turned on its head as another hunter begins stalking the same werewolf pack.</p><p>Written originally for the 2014 totaolly fic exchange on livejournal.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote the first chapter of this story for for the 2014 totaolly fic exchange on livejournal. However, having fallen in love with the premise and turned it into a chapter fic while simultaneously finishing my undergraduate thesis, the rest of the story kind of got lost in the shuffle. Well, I've spent the last day writing the rest of the story as part of my NaNoWriMo project, and now I decided to post the first chapter. 
> 
> I'm planning on finishing the rest of it today and posting a new chapter maybe twice a week, but I honestly make no promises. I've learned my lesson about that.

The forest was silent in the mid-afternoon hush, long beams of sunlight fighting their way through the thick canopy to splash like liquid across the forest floor. Soft pine needles and dead leaves carpeted the ground under the trees, the old-growth trees spreading their branches long and keeping much undergrowth from growing at their bases. It was an old forest, a deep forest; it kept its secrets hidden, whispered along the wind in its branches, and it protected the creatures who called its depths their home.

Soft footfalls barely disturbed the hushed silence under the trees, walking confidently and quietly through the forest. Strong hands smoothed over honey-gold wood and ran a finger down cold steel, the hunter checking the draw of his weapon with the unconscious ease of long practice. Dark eyes swept the forest floor, looking for the slightest hint of a pawprint, the barest sign of crushed vegetation to indicate the direction in which his prey had gone. He paused and crouched, running the fingertips of one hand across the ground, and a beam of sunlight lit his russet hair blood red.

The wind whispered through the trees, and Huang Zitao stood and spun smoothly, crossbow leveled dead center on the chest of the man standing behind him.

“Oh,” the man said, blinking in surprise. He was tall and thin, wearing a worn button-down shirt and soft leather pants that looked as though he’d made them himself. His hair was dark, his eyes a clear whiskey brown, his gaze piercing and steady. His face was strong and handsome, an air of wildness clinging to the lean lines of his face and body like a cloak. Over his shoulder he carried a sack, and in his free hand he carried…a dead rabbit.

Zitao’s crossbow did not waver. “Why are you following me?”

The man gave him an amused look. “I am not. I am merely hunting, as you are. You are following my trapping line.”

Zitao blinked, and his finger relaxed on the trigger. “You are hunting? In this forest?”

“It’s not so hard to believe,” the man replied, squatting and letting his sack fall to the ground. Zitao realized that it wasn’t a sack; it was a string of small animals, rabbit and mink and fox. The stranger added the rabbit in his hand to the top of the string, big hands deftly tying its feet to the line. “You are doing the same, are you not?”

“Well, yes, but…” Zitao pressed his lips together and changed track. “You shouldn’t hunt in this forest. It’s not safe.”

The man stood and moved to the other side of the clearing, where he squatted down and checked a wood-and-twine trap that Zitao hadn’t even noticed was there. “No forest is safe.” He stood again and slung his kills over his shoulder, turning his intense gaze back onto Zitao, who felt a slight shiver roll down his spine.

“But this forest…” Zitao closed his crossbow and hefted it to rest on his shoulder, gesturing with his free hand in frustration. “Haven’t you heard the stories?”

The man shrugged, dark eyes unwavering. “People say a lot of things.”

“Not like this. This forest is known for its witchery.” Zitao’s eyes narrowed. “Werewolves run in this forest.”

The man looked amused, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Werewolves must run somewhere, mustn’t they? And it is better through the forest than through the town.”

Zitao hissed, making a sharp cutting gesture with one hand. “Werewolves shouldn’t run _anywhere_ , not when they’re so dangerous to humans. And you shouldn’t hunt in these forests until the danger is gone.”

“Oh?” the man murmured, his eyes suddenly sharpening and pinning Zitao where he stood. “And you are here to make sure that the danger is gone, then?”

Zitao lifted his chin and stared back. “Yes. I am.”

They stared at each other for several minutes, and Zitao could feel his pulse thrumming in his neck. There was something about this handsome, strange man, something that made Zitao’s hands sweat and his heart race. He had never met another man quite like this one. But he would not break first, and he stiffened his spine, determined to stand up to this odd, charismatic figure.

Finally the stranger’s gaze softened, and the corners of his eyes crinkled again in amusement. “I’ve been hunting in these forests for longer than you’ve been alive, I expect,” he said, turning his head and lifting his face to the breeze, eyes sharp and alert. “If there’s any danger here, I doubt it is to me.”

And with that he turned and stepped silently into the trees, his trapped animals swaying over his shoulder, disappearing into the silence of the forest before he’d gone more than five steps.

Zitao slumped where he stood, and realized that his breath was fast and his cock half-hard.

—

The small town at the edge of the forest was quiet, but clean and prosperous, with a wide dirt road bisecting it down the middle before winding off down the mountain. Its inhabitants were healthy and friendly, smiling at each other when they passed in the street and mostly untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

Every single person on the street turned to stare at Zitao as he strode into town, the bottoms of his denim pants and his heavy boots quickly gathering dust from the road. He ignored the looks, striding down the main street with his attention focused only on the dry goods store. The folding crossbow slung across his back declared his business to everyone with eyes; only one type of person carried that particular weapon.

It was a little odd, however, that conversations stopped when Zitao drew near. Many people were wary of hunters, but it was rare to find an entire town so…cautious. Even so, Zitao ignored it. It had nothing to do with his purpose here.

A bell over the door tinkled as Zitao entered the dry goods store, and the clerk—young, brown-haired, with a handsome, sharp face—raised his head from where he was leaning on the counter reading a book. “Welcome!” he smiled, standing straight. “Looking for anything particular, sir, or just browsing?”

He was short, Zitao noted, and slim, clearly untrained in combat. His features were fine, attractive, with large brown eyes. Very pretty. And young. Zitao wondered why he stayed in this small town so deep in the mountains instead of heading to the city like so many other young men their age.

Well, Zitao couldn’t talk. He was probably younger than this boy and he never went into cities—hated them.

“I need some general supplies,” Zitao replied, hooking a hand into the leather harness across his chest and tugging lightly, resettling the crossbow on his back. “Rope, some nails if you have them. And the name of a place to stay in town, if there is one.”

The clerk’s eyes drifted to the end of the crossbow peeking over Zitao’s shoulder and his smile faded slightly, his eyes growing guarded. “Of course,” he said. “The rope is toward the back with the farming tools, and nails are in a barrel over there.” He gestured at a row of barrels next to the register.

“Thank you,” Zitao said, and headed into the back.

“So,” the young man said casually—too casually, Zitao’s mind noted, “just visiting town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Zitao said, running a length of rope through his hands and testing its strength, “and I don’t intend to stay long.” He slung the coil of rope over his shoulder and headed back toward the front, to the barrel of iron nails. “I’m just doing some hunting, and when I’m finished I’ll be gone.” His eyes slid over to observe the young man’s reaction.

Apart from a thinning of his full lips and perhaps a slight tightening of the skin around his eyes, the young man hid his reaction well. “Not a lot of game this time of year,” he commented instead, turning a page in his book that Zitao was sure he hadn’t read. “Don’t know how much luck you’re going to have.”

Zitao grinned, his teeth flashing in the dimness of the store. “I’m not hunting ordinary prey.” He dumped the rope and a collection of nails on the counter and placed his hands flat against the solid wood, leveling the young man with a steady gaze. “Do you know anything about the rumors that werewolves run in these woods, sir?”

The young man straightened up and his eyes narrowed, meeting Zitao’s gaze firmly and levelly. “That’s just an old myth,” he replied without blinking. “That story’s been around since my grandmother’s time, and no one I know has ever said anything about seeing a werewolf. Besides, we’d know, wouldn’t we? No other town within half a day’s travel, and we’ve never had any werewolf attacks, no missing people or livestock, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Hmm,” Zitao said noncommittally, secretly a little surprised. He had indeed expected there to be some sign of werewolf presence in the town—sightings, children missing, the odd woodsman savaged—but the young man seemed completely sincere, although he was hiding something. This town seemed to only gain more secrets the more Zitao dug.

The bell above the door chimed, and the young man glanced over before his eyes widened and he darted a look, completely unconsciously, back to Zitao. Intrigued, Zitao glanced over as well to see a tall, unkempt man with wildly curly hair and the largest smile the hunter had ever seen standing in the doorway. The man’s feet were bare, his legs clad in tattered denim trousers, and his thick canvas shirt had certainly seen better days. Over his shoulder he carried a large sack.

“Baekhyun!” he said, his voice loud and deep. “Brought some things for you, really nice ones!”

“Chanyeol!” the young man—Baekhyun—said, as though it was shocked out of him. “I…” He glanced at Zitao, who raised his eyebrows. Baekhyun swallowed. “I didn’t expect to see you today,” he said unwillingly. “We have someone new in town, I was just talking to him,” he added transparently.

The tall man, Chanyeol, looked Zitao over, nostrils flaring as he seemed to take a deep breath in. His eyes shuttered and his face became wary, gaze settling and remaining on the crossbow on Zitao’s back. “Oh,” he said, everything about his exuberant attitude as he’d entered the store now dialed back, locked down into an almost feral wariness. Zitao cocked his head to the side.

“Well,” Chanyeol said, clearly attempting to ignore Zitao’s presence and approaching the counter, although he kept a respectable distance between them, “here I am. Yifan said that these were ready just this morning.” He opened up the sack and began to pull out…furs.

Very, very nice furs, Zitao noted, eyes following each one as it joined the pile. Well cured, the leather strong and the coat soft and plush with color. Squirrel and mink and beaver, fox and rabbit and otter. They would fetch a high price in any market.

“Those are high quality,” he commented casually, leaning against the counter but not touching the furs. “Good trapping around these parts?”

Chanyeol’s lips pressed together and he didn’t answer, instead sorting the furs into piles by size. Baekhyun cast a fearful glance at the tall man, before hesitantly answering, “Well enough. Not good enough to support more than one or two trappers, though.”

“And this trapper,” Zitao said slowly, mind leaping to connect the dots, “he wouldn’t happen to be tall, well-built, with a strong face? Deep voice, as tall…well, about as tall as you,” he said to Chanyeol, who stiffened, nostrils flaring and his mouth opening as if to speak, teeth flashing.

Baekhyun reached out and gripped Chanyeol’s wrist, making him settle. “Yes,” he said quietly, “Yifan, the only trapper in the area. He lives outside the town, a little way up the mountain with Chanyeol and a few others, his family. They trade their furs with me for money to buy their other supplies. They’re our only real woodsmen; most everyone else is content to live in town. We’re a quiet community, everyone knows everyone else. If you’re looking for trouble here you’d best be on your way to another town.”

“I’m not looking for trouble,” Zitao said, meeting Baekhyun’s eyes steadily, “but if there is any—well. I prefer to take care of it.” He tossed down a few coins, the metal clinking against the wood. “Thank you for the supplies.”

Zitao gathered up his purchases and left the store, the bell tinkling quietly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Zitao went out again the next day, combing the forest for any sign of werewolf activity. He’d found accommodation in the town at the small inn, booking his room for a week. He hoped to be gone before then, but this hunt seemed to be more complicated than most.

More complicated than most indeed, Zitao thought frustratedly, running one hand through his hair and leaning against a tree next to him. The forest was quiet, true, and absent any signs of large predators, which was generally a good indicator of werewolf activity—the half-man beasts tended to run off any predator larger than a fox. But there were none of the other signs of activity; no marked trees, no pawprints, no destroyed vegetation. The old forest was as calm as a lake on a windless day.

“Fuck,” Zitao muttered, and then shook his head, pressing on. There was _something_ here, and the red-haired hunter was determined to discover what.

And, an hour later, he did, though it was not the kind of thing he had been looking for.

“You are not allowed here,” a voice echoed out of the forest, and Zitao tensed, crossbow coming up instantly, cocked and ready as he looked for the speaker.

He could see nothing.

“Who are you?” Zitao said, eyes scanning for any movement in the underbrush. “Show yourself!”

“You’re not allowed here,” the voice said again, coming from another direction this time. Zitao spun, trying to track it with his bow. His heart beat fast in his chest.

“The forest is wild,” he replied, “I may walk where I please. Show yourself!”

“Not here,” the voice said. A bush rustled, and Zitao locked on and fired within an instant, but he heard his crossbow bolt thud into wood and knew he had missed. He reloaded, still spinning slowly, crouched and ready. “Why are you here?” the voice said, hissed. “To kill. You’re not allowed.”

A golden blur shot at Zitao from behind, and he spun, but the creature slammed into him before he could take aim, snarling and spitting in rage. They tumbled end over end, Zitao’s crossbow lost in the foliage. Zitao’s head smacked against a tree root and, dazed, he brought up his legs and kicked, forcing the creature off of him. He had barely enough time to see that it was a man—small, golden-haired, shirtless—before the man attacked him again, but this time Zitao was ready.

They grappled, each trying to gain traction in the loamy forest floor. Zitao elbowed the man in the chest and managed to drive a fist into the vulnerable skin on his lower back, but the man seemed almost unfazed, wrenching Zitao around and raking sharp fingernails down his chest to his soft belly. Zitao grunted and rolled them, trying to pin the man and get an arm free to draw his knife, useless in its sheath on his thigh.

The man merely rolled them again, and suddenly the fight was over, Zitao pinned under the wild man’s form and staring up into a face drawn with rage, teeth bared in an animalistic snarl as one hand closed around Zitao’s throat. Zitao struggled, unable to get free. He gasped, throat burning, and kicked helplessly.

And then, in an instant, the wild man was yanked off of him.

Zitao coughed, rolling to the side and into a crouch, ignoring the aches and burning in his body as he assessed the new situation. His knife settled into his hand, a reassuring weight.

The trapper from yesterday—Yifan—stood like a tall sentinel a few feet away, holding the wild man who’d attacked Zitao effortlessly by the neck. The man was still snarling, eyes still locked onto Zitao, but he wasn’t struggling, despite the fact that he was being held off of the ground. Gods and spirits, but Yifan was strong; he was holding a grown man, no matter how small, off of the ground with one hand, and showing no apparent strain.

“Well,” Yifan said, his dark eyes locked on Zitao, “this is an inauspicious second meeting, hunter.”

“Through no fault of my own,” Zitao ground out, and then coughed weakly. He would no doubt have fingerprint bruises ringing his throat come morning.

Yifan turned that dark gaze on the man in his grip, and unceremoniously dropped him to the ground. “Explain, Luhan.”

“He is a hunter,” the wild man, Luhan, growled, his own black eyes locked on Zitao, unwavering. His bare chest, streaked with dirt and the marks Zitao had left, heaved as he panted, and his worn leather pants were in no better shape. Zitao noticed with a start that he was barefoot. “He trespasses here, climbing over our mountain, into our territory. To kill! Why did you stop me, Yifan?”

“We do not kill people, Luhan,” Yifan said, and for some reason his eyes slid back over to Zitao as he spoke those words. Zitao cocked his head, catching the look even through his pounding heart and still slightly dazed mind. “We do not kill _anyone_. You know this.”

“But—” Luhan said, and Yifan scowled.

“Go back to the house,” he ordered, his voice lower and more gravelly than it had been previously, and Zitao barely hid a shiver as it rolled down his spine.

To his surprise, Luhan ducked his head and headed off into the trees, shooting one last dark look at Zitao before disappearing into the forest without a trace. Zitao clenched the handle of his knife harder and turned to face Yifan again, still—perhaps more—wary.

“I apologize,” Yifan said, his deep voice back to normal. “Luhan lost his family to a fight, and he takes poorly to strangers trespassing in our home.”

“Poorly isn’t the way I would put it,” Zitao snapped, voice rough. He would not be able to speak normally for several days. “He nearly strangled me.”

“You should not have been wandering where you are not wanted,” Yifan said, voice steely. He approached, footsteps silent on the forest floor, and Zitao backed up, eyes wide, completely forgetting the knife in his hand. Yifan’s big hand reached out, and Zitao’s breath caught, making him cough weakly, eyes watering. Yifan paused, frowning, until the coughing stopped, and then touched the tips of his fingers to Zitao’s throat, over the tender flesh that was already bruising from Luhan’s hand. “But I do apologize. Luhan should not have done that.”

“And you have the authority to apologize for him?” Zitao rasped out, almost forgetting what he was saying as Yifan’s eyes—so close—snapped up to pin him down. “Who are you? Who lives out here, so far from the safety of the town?”

Yifan drew back, his hand dropping to his side, and Zitao almost missed the touch even as he felt the indefinable pressure of the man’s presence retreat as well. “We are a family who prefers solitude,” Yifan replied, eyes hard and shuttered. “And we do not appreciate inquiries, especially from outsiders. Go home, Zitao. Leave this place, before your actions cause more strife than you wish.”

Yifan turned and left, disappearing into the woods in the opposite direction from which Luhan had left without a backward glance.

Zitao slumped to the ground, body aching and throat burning, hand clenched white-knuckled around his knife, and wondered exactly what he had gotten himself into.

—

Night was beginning to fall as Zitao limped back into the town, sore and hungry and angry. He entered the inn and slumped down at the nearest empty table, letting his crossbow land on the wood with a loud thunk. “Beer,” he said shortly to the bartender.

The young men seated at the table next to his turned as one to look at him, and Zitao recognized the young man from the general store among what must be a group of his friends. “Long day?” one of them asked sardonically, black eyes sharp and unfriendly as he sized Zitao up.

“Long enough,” Zitao replied, aching and irritated and unwilling to put up with needling from some young upstart too big for himself. His voice grated in his throat, and he winced, swallowing against the marks Luhan had left on his throat. The bartender placed a bottle of beer and a cup in front of him, and Zitao poured himself a large cup, some of the alcohol slopping over the sides. He downed it and poured another. “Have you food, bartender?”

“Just a stew,” the bartender said shortly, retreating behind the bar.

Zitao’s eyes narrowed. “A bowl, if you would. Wolf hunting is hungry work.”

The young men stirred and muttered to themselves. “There are no wolves here,” the young man from before said sharply, ignoring Baekhyun’s attempt to hush him. His wiry frame was tense, the empty mug in front of him speaking to where his courage was coming from. “There have been no wolves around here for many years.”

Zitao downed his second cup of beer and set the cup down hard on the table, sneering. “And I suppose the woodsmen on the mountain are merely ordinary men, are they?” he snapped, giving voice for the first time to the idea that had been nagging at him on the entirety of his walk back to town. “That wild man who left these,” he gestured to the handprint of bruises ringing his throat, “Luhan, or whatever his name is, attacked me for no reason?”

“Luhan is a good man!” The young man rose to his feet, face flushed in anger. “We are a peaceful town, and you come in, threatening that peace and talking of murder!”

“It is not murder!” Zitao shouted back, rising to his own feet, hands clenching as he stopped himself from reaching for his crossbow. His throat grated and tore, reminding him of what exactly he was doing, what his purpose was. “Werewolves are beasts, they kill entire families and destroy towns in their bloodlust! They must be put down like the mad creatures they are!”

“That does not happen here!” the young man shouted, stepping up to Zitao, squaring off as if he had a hope of winning a fight against the hunter. One of his companions, a smaller boy with large eyes and pouty lips, gripped his arm, eyes wide and nervous. “Luhan and his family protect this town! No one has gone missing, no one has died! How dare you come in here and threaten our people!”

“Jongin, leave it,” Baekhyun pleaded, half-risen out of his seat as if he could restrain his friend from the other side of the table. The bartender eyed them warily, clearly unwilling to get involved unless an actual fight broke out, and the tables around them suddenly seemed to be emptier than before, the other bar-goers silent and hostilely watchful.

“Yes, Jongin, leave it,” Zitao growled, his voice like the grating of rocks in a landslide. “Leave it to those who know what they’re doing. Don’t get involved in things you know nothing of, _boy_. I have seen werewolves commit atrocities that would leave you weeping for your mother. I have seen what they can do, and they must be _put down_.” Zitao ignored the doubts whispering through his mind, the memory of the thinly veiled terror in Luhan’s eyes as he strangled Zitao.

“You make me sick,” Jongin spat, ignoring the urging of the boy with his hand on his arm. He crowded into Zitao’s space, aggressive, eyes angry. “You murder and hide it behind a claim of _honor_ , swaggering around with that crossbow as if it gives you some kind of status to be a killer—”

“That is enough,” Yifan rumbled.

The room fell silent and still, everyone turning to look at the door. Zitao’s breath hitched at the sight of Yifan standing there, seeming to fill the doorway until there was no room left, and heat sparked in his chest and settled low in his belly. Zitao scowled, shame at his unconscious reaction mingling with the flush of anger already warming his cheeks.

“Yifan,” Jongin said, his anger faltering. “We were—er, that is—”

Yifan stepped into the room, his tall frame filling up the space until no one could look away. “I know exactly what you were doing, Kim Jongin,” Yifan said, coming to a halt several paces away from the two of them. There was a harsh, solitary cast to his features. “I could hear you quite well as I came up the road.”

Zitao winced. No wonder his throat felt so awful. Had they really been so loud?

“I’m sorry, Yifan,” Jongin muttered, ducking his head. He shot a look at Zitao out of the corner of his eye, some of his anger returning. “But he—”

“I do not wish to hear your excuses.” Yifan’s hands settled into his pockets, and he observed the two of them with unreadable eyes.

“Zitao is right.” Yifan cut off Jongin’s word of protest with a sharp gesture. “Werewolves are capable of terrible, monstrous things. I’ve seen it.” His eyes shifted and pinned Zitao in place before he could feel triumph. “But I have also seen hunters commit worse acts than the supposed monsters that they hunt.”

In the lantern light, it seemed as though the handsome man was carved from stone.

“And now I wish to speak with you, Zitao.” Yifan’s head tilted to the side. “If you please.”

Zitao didn’t move. “Why?” he rasped, his voice barely audible through the damage to his throat.

A thin, humorless smile flitted across Yifan’s lips. “Regarding Luhan’s actions this afternoon. If you please.” He stood aside and gestured at the still open door, eyes fixed on Zitao. “I would prefer to have this conversation in private.”

Zitao hesitated, and then swept his crossbow off of the table with bad grace, slinging it over his shoulder and wincing as he jostled his bruises. Yifan gestured for Zitao to precede him, and with a last glance at Jongin and the table of young men—all still staring warily at him—the hunter ducked out of the inn into the swiftly falling night.

“Your room would be best, I think, if you don’t mind,” Yifan said, and Zitao eyed him before shrugging and leading the way, ignoring the ironic thought that he was willingly letting the wolf into his den.

“So,” he said, letting Yifan into the tiny room he was letting for the week and setting his crossbow down on the small table (but keeping his knife within reach), “you wished to speak with me.”

“Yes.” Yifan leaned back against the wall, pulling a small jar from his pocket and holding it out. “Here. For the bruises. And your throat.”

Zitao didn’t take it. “Why?”

Yifan didn’t lower his hand. “Because a member of my family hurt you, and I wish to make amends.”

“Why should I trust anything you offer me?” Zitao’s heart was beating hard. He didn’t want to think about whether it was from adrenaline or arousal.

Yifan set the jar down on the table next to the crossbow. “Because I have no wish to hurt you.”

Zitao laughed humorlessly. “I came to this town to kill your family.”

“Yes,” Yifan replied quietly, gaze unwavering. “But you have not, and I do not believe you will.”

Zitao’s breath shuddered out of him. “So it’s true,” he whispered, taking a step back. “You are a werewolf.”

Yifan tilted his head silently in acknowledgement.

“I can’t—” Zitao looked away, then quickly back at Yifan. “You are not like any werewolf I have ever hunted.”

Yifan tilted his head the other way, the movement oddly canine. “In what way?”

“I have never spoken to a werewolf before!” Zitao burst out. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “They are always feral beasts, mad from the bloodlust, or else raggedy humans barely a step away from transforming at any moment. You…you seem so human. You have a family. A pack? A pack of werewolves. Gods and spirits.” The hunter sat abruptly on the edge of his bed. “I cannot believe this.”

“There are those who let the wolf control them, who let their anger at being turned consume them and forget what it is to be human,” Yifan said quietly. “Not all of us wish to be monsters.” He picked up the jar of ointment again and offered it to Zitao. “Please. You are in pain.”

Zitao stared at the little jar, dazed. He had been so sure…all his life, since the murder of his family, he had known that werewolves were mindless beasts that needed to be put down. Nothing he had come across in his hunts had taught him otherwise. But this…

He reached out, and Yifan dropped the jar into his palm, careful to avoid touching Zitao’s skin.

“Please,” Yifan said again. “Heal your injuries, and then leave this town. We are happy here. There is no evil for you to fight.” His hand lifted, perhaps to touch Zitao’s hair, and the young man flinched. Yifan let his arm drop back to his side. “You are a good man, Zitao,” he said. “But if you come into the forest again, I cannot guarantee your safety. My family has great reason to hate hunters, and I will not allow you to kill my family.”

Yifan—the _werewolf_ —turned and left, the door closing with a gentle click behind him.

Zitao stared after him, and then looked down at the jar in his hand. It was still warm from Yifan’s touch.

He could not shake the feeling that, in a single conversation and the offering of a gift, his world had irrevocably changed.


	3. Chapter 3

Zitao stayed within the borders of the town for the next few days, letting his throat heal and observing the townsfolk. As much as they would let him, anyway. Despite their wariness, he was able to observe several interactions that had him even more puzzled than before.

Chanyeol came back into town. For what reason, Zitao couldn’t discern; he brought no furs, and Yifan had likely warned his…family to stay away from the town, much as he’d warned Zitao to stay away from the forest. It was pure luck that Zitao saw Chanyeol’s tall frame ducking into the general store, and curiosity that made him stay half-hidden across the street until Chanyeol came out again a few minutes later, followed by the slighter frame of Baekhyun. The two young men spoke for a while longer before Chanyeol turned and loped off down the street out of town.

Zitao frowned and went back to his room.

A few days later Zitao barely caught Jongin speaking to someone at the edge of the forest. The young man was half-hidden in the trees, speaking intensely to someone who was hidden further into the forest. Zitao watched carefully, and was rewarded when the hidden second person shifted position and sunlight briefly glinted off of blond hair. Luhan.

The small werewolf disappeared into the forest soon after that, leaving Jongin staring after him. Zitao turned and headed back to his room, slumping onto the bed and staring at his hands.

What was he to do?

The young hunter knew himself well enough to know that killing these werewolves, even if he could do so without getting killed himself, would not sit well with his conscience. These wolves had not attacked any villagers, had not killed any livestock or threatened the town in any way--indeed, they seemed to be protecting it. Then what did that mean for Zitao?

Just because they haven’t does not mean they won’t in the future, the cold, ruthless part of his mind reminded him. It went against every hunter instinct he had to leave a group of werewolves so close to a settled area--but could he honestly do anything about it? Yifan had warned him that he would not stop his family from killing Zitao if he threatened them again, and Zitao had no idea how big this ‘family’ actually was. He’d seen three werewolves, all healthy and worryingly strong, and he honestly didn’t know if he could kill all of them.

Well, if he was being truly honest, he knew that he couldn’t.

But could he just leave? Leave this town with such a threat hanging over their heads?  They were in danger at every full moon, even if Yifan’s pack seemed to be fully in control of their human sides the rest of the time.

Zitao just… he didn’t know.

\---

It was a full ten days after Zitao’s  discussion with Yifan when the decision was taken out of his hands. Zitao was walking around the town, learning the layout and familiarizing himself with the perimeter, when he heard running footsteps behind him and turned, ducking a punch.

“You cowardly, honorless bastard,” Baekhyun hissed, recovering quickly from his missed blow and spinning to face Zitao, eyes bright with rage. “How could you! I thought perhaps, since you haven’t done anything, you would leave us in peace, but you--you called that man here! You cowardly pig!” He threw another punch, which Zitao easily caught.

“What are you talking about?” Zitao asked, not letting Baekhyun go even as the smaller man tugged on his hand. “Called who? I didn’t call anybody.”

Baekhyun glared up at him, and Zitao noticed, surprised, that the brightness in his eyes was not only from anger. “There is a hunter crawling through town,” Baekhyun said slowly, meanly, ignoring the sheen of tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks. “If you did not call him, then why is he here?”

Shocked, Zitao let go of Baekhyun’s hand, and Baekhyun stumbled back with a sound of surprise. “There’s another hunter?” Zitao repeated, staring at the storekeeper. “Here?”

Baekhyun rubbed at his wrist, still glaring at Zitao--with betrayal, Zitao realized, and his stomach swooped unpleasantly. He hadn’t been close enough to someone for them to feel betrayed by his actions in a long time. It was not a pleasant feeling.

“He’s in the pub, asking questions,” Baekhyun replied. “If anything happens to this town because of you, I will make sure you do not leave here alive.” He turned and stalked away, slight form rigid with anger.

Zitao stared after him. Despite Baekhyun’s small stature and pretty face, the hunter did not doubt for a moment that he would follow through with his threat.

But there was another hunter here. That was a very bad sign. Zitao turned and hurried toward the pub.

Every villager he passed on his way glared angrily at him, and Zitao took that to mean that Baekhyun had been telling the truth. The townspeople had been loosening up around him before this, ten days of calm leading them to hope that perhaps he would just leave. Now Zitao was the enemy again, all the more hated because he had betrayed their hope.

Zitao pushed open the door to the pub, scanning the dimly lit room even as his eyes tried to adjust. His eyes fell on a broad back decorated with a crossbow harness, and his stomach dropped.

“Junghwan,” he said, and the man turned, a wide unfriendly grin on his face.

“Well!” he said, taking a swig of the beer in front of him. “Little Zitao. Surprised to see you here. Didn’t you get killed last month?”

“You knew very well that I was going to be here,” Zitao said, crossing the room to square up to the bigger, older man. “I left word that I was heading out this way. This is my hunt, Junghwan. Why are you here?”

“Caught wind of this place, same as you,” Junghwan replied, finishing off his beer and thumping the glass down on the bar. “Sounds like a right nest you’ve got up here, figured you could use the help.”

“I don’t even know if there are any wolves here,” Zitao replied. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. “There are no signs of it. No livestock or people missing, no deaths. And even if there was a nest, you are still poaching my hunt. I want you out. Now.”

“Full moon’s in two days, little man,” Junghwan said, his deep voice lowering to a growl.  “Stories don’t come from nowhere. There are werewolves here, ‘n’ I’m gonna stay and take them out. You gonna help me, or get in my way?” Junghwan cocked his head, manic eyes fixed on Zitao. “Or have you gone soft? Got no stomach for it anymore? I told you years ago you couldn’t take it. You gonna get in my way, boy?” He loomed over Zitao, trying to use his bulk to intimidate him.

Zitao didn’t move, staring at the other hunter. “Of course not,” he said dismissively. “You plan to hunt on the full moon, then? That’s dangerous.”

“When the beasts’re mad with the moonlust, ‘s the best time to take ‘em out,” Junghwan said, grin spreading across his face again. “Ain’t got no time for cowards. You gonna help or get in my way?”

“This is my hunt,” Zitao said again firmly, trying to reestablish some sort of control over the situation, mind scrambling. “I know this area better than you. If you don’t want to get killed, you’d better listen to me.”

Junghwan’s smile never reached his eyes. “Sure thing, little man. We’ll hunt ‘em down together.” He turned back to the bar. “Barkeep!” he bellowed. “Another beer.”

Zitao let out a silent breath, heart pounding, trying to think of a way out of this. Junghwan was dangerous, a loose cannon, the worst kind of hunter. He often left the afflicted towns and people nearly destroyed in his hunts. There was almost always collateral damage. And he never, ever missed a kill.

Zitao turned, heading for the door. He had to do something--warn someone.

“Where you goin’, little Zitao?” Junghwan drawled.

Zitao turned, fighting down irritation and just a little bit of fear. “To my room. I have to prepare.”

“I’ll go with you. Shouldn’ plan without me, and all.” Junghwan dropped a coin onto the bar and stood up, slinging his crossbow easily onto his back. With no way to gracefully say no, Zitao led the way out the door, meeting Baekhyun’s eyes outside. The slim storekeeper was lingering off to the side, clearly waiting to see what would happen, and his accusing gaze burned into Zitao all the way down the street.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

The next two days passed in a blur of tension and simmering anger. Zitao couldn’t get Junghwan to leave the town, and couldn’t get him to leave his side either--the older hunter had attached himself to Zitao as if he knew that Zitao had both been in contact with the werewolves and hadn’t been planning on killing them. The townsfolk were tense too, angry stares following them any time they went out. Zitao definitely saw an increase in the number of hunting bows and sharp farming implements being casually carried around town, and it made him twitchy.

At least he had gotten Junghwan to agree to hunt different parts of the woods. Because Zitao allegedly didn’t know where the werewolves were (and honestly, he didn’t, really), they would split up and search two different areas in order to cover more ground on the night of the full moon. Zitao could hopefully keep him away from the wolves’ part of the forest.

And then what? Zitao sighed, leaning his forehead against the wall next to his bed. He couldn’t even leave his room without Junghwan sticking his head out his own door and asking where he was going, coming up with an excuse to follow no matter where Zitao said he was going. And if Junghwan knew he had been in contact with the wolves, non-violent contact, well. The hunter would kill him without a second thought. Zitao had no doubt of that.

The young hunter stared at the rickety table in the corner, the only flat surface in the room besides the bed. The fat little jar of bruise balm that Yifan had given him sat there, mocking him with its presence.

He had to warn them somehow. There was no way he could let Junghwan kill Yifan, Chanyeol, or even Luhan, angry little bruiser that he was. They were--well, not human, but certainly not evil. And Junghwan would murder them without a thought.

Zitao glanced out the tiny window. It was several hours until sunset, and he had to plan.

\---

The night of the full moon was always filled with tension. Civilians in high-traffic monster areas stayed inside, with the doors locked and warded. Hunters prowled the night, doing their best to prevent disasters before they happened, and monsters--well, it wasn’t just werewolves stalking the full moon.

Zitao checked the draw of his crossbow, shoulders tense, eyes alert. Adrenaline was humming lowly through his veins, and he stopped himself from running his hand along the quiver of silver arrows strapped to his hip for the fourth time. He disliked hunting the full moon; too many mistakes, too many possibilities for failure, too many trigger-happy hunters and out-of-control monsters. Zitao wanted to stay alive too much to risk hunting the full moon.

Unfortunately, his opinion was not shared by many. “Ready?” Junghwan grunted, unholstering his crossbow and cocking it with a loud click. “Let’s go hunt us some wolves.” He led the way out onto the street, their quiet footfalls sounding loud in the silent stillness of the night.

“I’ll take the north, you take the south, like we agreed,” Zitao said shortly, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings as they walked through town. It was surprisingly busy at this time of the night; men and women stood on their front stoops or gathered on street corners, talking quietly to each other and not even trying to hide their stares at the two hunters. Something was going to happen, Zitao knew it. His grip tightened on his crossbow.

“Yeah, yeah,” Junghwan grunted, ignoring the townsfolk, his eyes fever-bright as he stared toward the forest. “Let’s go, I don’t want this to take all night.” He loped off southward, and Zitao took a shaky breath and headed directly for the clearing where he’d met Yifan for the first time.

The forest was almost pitch black, the old trees only letting a few beams of moonlight through their branches. Zitao stepped carefully, every one of his senses on high alert, listening for any sign of an approaching creature.

He didn’t have a plan. Not really. Werewolves almost always fully transformed on the full moon, running and hunting and letting the bloodlust take over. Zitao had done a hunt in a city six months ago, though, where the werewolf had somehow mastered control of his change so that he turned into half-man, half-beast hybrid, frighteningly intelligent and with the power to break down a wall. He’d even been able to speak, and had nearly killed Zitao before the hunter had managed to get a silver dagger in his eye. He hoped, what with Yifan’s almost frightening control over his wolf side, that Yifan could do the same--and that the werewolf would listen to him.

Wind rustled through the trees, and Zitao froze, head cocked, listening. He could have sworn…

But the forest was silent again, even though Zitao waited for five full minutes before moving forward. The best he could hope for, Zitao thought, was that Yifan and his wolves were hunting somewhere else tonight, and that neither he nor Junghwan ran into any of them. With no sign of the beasts on a full moon, hopefully Junghwan would be convinced that there weren’t any werewolves here and move on.

Then, not too far away, rose the chilling sound of a wolf’s howl.

Zitao’s crossbow came up, his heart pounding furiously as he scanned the dark forest, straining his ears for any other sound. He barely caught the crunch of leaves and a deep, mumbling growl before a heavy weight slammed into his back.

Zitao didn’t fight it, hitting the ground and somersaulting, sending the wolf flying off of him and scrambling back to his feet, grabbing his crossbow. The wolf across from him shook itself out and bared its teeth, still growling, yellow eyes flaring with rage. Zitao braced himself--and then, in front of his eyes, the wolf began to change, growing upwards, fur rippling back and limbs reforming until Luhan stood before him, blond hair melting into a wolf’s pelt down his back, hands curved and tipped with claws, legs still the powerful hind legs of a wolf.

“Luhan!” The name burst from Zitao before he could stop it, shock overtaking him at the sight of the change.

“You were warned, hunter,” Luhan growled, eyes glowing yellow as he stalked forward. His voice was unnaturally deep, every word carrying the edge of a snarl as his wolf’s teeth flashed in the moonlight. “You were warned, and instead you called for support. Do you think the hunter following you will save you from death? You should have left when Yifan let you go.”

“Where is Yifan?” Zitao asked urgently, keeping his crossbow up but not pointing the arrow at Luhan. “I need to speak with him--wait, what do you mean, following me?” He half turned towards the dark forest behind him, but before he could maneuver so that both Luhan and his trail were in view, he heard the loud twang of a bow and a crossbow bolt thudded into his chest, sending him flying backward.

Zitao heard Luhan yip in surprise, but his attention was taken up entirely by the searing, crushing pain in his ribs. He groped for the wound, feeling hot blood spill over his hand as his fingers brushed against the bolt. Silver wasn’t poison to him as it was to wolves, but it was just as deadly if it hit a vital spot, and every hunter, out of necessity, was an excellent shot.

“Ah, Zitao,” Junghwan said, stepping into view and shaking his head, “I knew you weren’t right in th’ head. Too soft, weren’t ya? Always too weak. But I never ‘spected you to actually have talked to the creatures. Ain’t never heard of anybody who’s done that.” He brought up his reloaded bow and almost casually aimed at a furiously growling Luhan. “But you led me to ‘em, just like I knew you would. Now sit tight there while I take care of this.” He fired.

Luhan dodged, the bolt thudding into a tree as he lunged, snarling and lightning-quick, across the clearing towards Junghwan. The hunter leapt to the side and clobbered Luhan across the head with the butt of his crossbow as he went by, causing Luhan to yelp and go tumbling into the base of a tree. He was up on his feet again in a second, teeth bared, more wolf than man, but Junghwan was ready and almost twice the small wolf’s size. Zitao gritted his teeth and fought his way to his feet, ignoring the grinding feel of broken ribs and the starbursts of pain across his vision. Keeping one hand pressed against his wound in an attempt to slow the blood, he drew a knife with his other hand and threw it.

Junghwan shouted in pain and whirled, yanking the knife out of his arm. His eyes narrowed. “Turning on your own kind,” he growled, using the knife to lay a shallow cut across Luhan’s chest as the wolf attacked again, sending him whimpering off to the side. “Soon as I’m finished with this wolf, I’m gonna kill you nice and slow.” He turned his back on Zitao to walk toward Luhan, who was crouching on the ground panting, one hand pressed to the cut on his chest, which was already bubbling and turning black from the silver.

Junghwan had always underestimated Zitao though, and this was just another one of those times. Zitao stumbled forward, pushing his body through the pain to shove himself into Junghwan and knock him over, blindly stabbing another knife anywhere he could reach. Junghwan roared and bodily threw him off, and Zitao lost his breath as he slammed into the ground, the crossbow bolt in his side breaking off and the arrowhead lodging itself further into his chest. He screamed in pain and struck out blindly with his feet, hitting something and hearing a crunch.

Then there was another, louder growl, and a blur jumped over Zitao and tackled Junghwan. Zitao forced away the blackness at the edge of his vision and managed to turn his head. Another wolf, larger than Luhan but still smaller than many he’d seen, was facing off against Junghwan now, in between him and Luhan.

“‘Nother one eh,” Junghwan growled, wiping a hand across his face. His fingers shone black in the moonlight, and Zitao realized distantly that the crunch he’d heard must have been Junghwan’s nose. “The more the merrier.” He drew one of his knives, the long blade glinting, and beckoned the wolf on. “C’mon then, furry! Can’t wait to add your head to my tally!”

The wolf snarled and charged, snapping furiously, and Junghwan met him head on. Zitao couldn’t see the fight most of the time--the dark forest hid their movements well, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open, but he could hear Junghwan’s curses and the yelps from the wolf.

“Zitao,” a voice said, and Zitao blinked slowly. Luhan was kneeling next to him, black blood dripping from his fingers as he held his hand over his cut.

“Have to… call Yifan,” Zitao whispered. “Junghwan will kill that wolf soon.”

Luhan looked around, yellow eyes wild, obviously close to losing control. “They’ll be here soon,” he said, his voice still low, growly. “I’ll help Chen.” He stumbled to his feet and disappeared, and Zitao nearly sobbed. They were both going to die, and it would be his fault.

As if to prove his thoughts true, Zitao heard twin wolf-yelps of pain and Junghwan’s breathless laugh of triumph. He bit his lip, scrabbling for another weapon with fingers that were losing feeling. He couldn’t let this happen. His eyelids fluttered, but he fought through it with a burst of effort and managed to roll onto his side. Three forms were writhing on the other side of the clearing, and Zitao stared at them with blurry eyes.

Then, out of the dark forest, a huge figure emerged, streaking across the clearing without a sound and slamming into the fight. Zitao blinked, a weak burst of adrenaline focusing his dazed mind.

It was the biggest wolf he’d ever seen. It tore into Junghwan without hesitation, latching onto one of his arms with its teeth and shaking it like it would shake a rabbit to break its neck. Junghwan roared in pain and managed to land a punch with his free arm, but two more blurs leapt out of the forest and in moments it was over, the huge wolf setting his teeth into Junghwan’s throat and tearing it out without hesitation.

Zitao sighed and closed his eyes. Good.

“Zitao,” a voice said, and hot hands on his shoulders rolled him onto his back, forcing a muffled scream out from behind his clenched teeth. His eyes shot open, and Yifan swam into view above him, streaked from mouth to bare chest with blood, his eyes still wolf-yellow. “Zitao.”

Zitao managed a small smile. “Glad you got here,” he whispered. “Was gonna kill L’han ‘n’ the other one.”

“Don’t talk,” Yifan ordered, his voice still low and growly as he pulled Zitao’s hand away from his wound. Zitao shook his head.

“Doesn’ matter,” he said, and coughed weakly. something wet and warm bubbled out of his mouth, and he knew that was bad. “Arrow lodged. Broken ribs. Gonna die. Don’ wanna die, Y’fan.”

Yifan snarled, eyes flashing briefly with the moon madness, and he reached his hand into Zitao’s chest and pulled out the arrowhead. Zitao’s mouth opened wide, but he was past the point of screaming even as his body convulsed and more blood gushed from his side.

“Zitao, Zitao stay with me, don’t close your eyes,” he heard Yifan say, but the forest was filling with golden light and voices, and Zitao sighed and let his eyes fall closed even as what felt like teeth closed around his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAHAHAHAHAHA sorry not sorry. I have no freakin' idea how many chapters there'll be btw, just know that it's more than 5.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHA um, sorry? Somebody should have poked me or something, I am notoriously bad at remembering to update even if I have a completed chapter. Anyway, sorry for the long wait, here's the resolution of last chapter's cliffhanger.

Zitao swam back into consciousness slowly, drifting on currents of warm sleep. The first thing he became aware of was the softness and warmth of the bed he was lying on. The second was the comforting scent he was surrounded by; it was like all of the good things in his life, the scent of his mother’s cooking and warm grass on a summer’s day and familiar people surrounding him.

Zitao’s forehead crinkled. Something about that didn’t seem quite right, but it seemed to take such _effort_ to open his eyes. Then he heard someone move nearby, and was reminded in a sickening rush that his mother--his _family_ \--was dead. He dragged his eyes open.

“Oh,” said an unfamiliar boy, pausing in his work and staring at Zitao. He stood and crossed the room in quick steps, crouching next to Zitao. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

Zitao blinked slowly and looked around. He was lying in a huge nest of blankets and furs, half-buried in the middle; the rough-hewn walls and sturdy but bare look of the room told him that he was in someone’s home, probably somewhere on the edge of the village. He turned his attention back to the boy crouched next to him. The boy’s eyes were dark and clever, his face handsome, cheekbones high and defined. He smelled wild, like the forest, and yet part of that scent was what Zitao had found so familiar and comforting as he was waking up. Zitao frowned. “Who’re you?” he whispered.

The boy grinned. “You must be doing okay, if you’re asking questions,” he said. “I’m Chen. Wait a moment, I’ve got to get the others.” He popped to his feet and trotted to the door, his bare feet making a quiet padding noise across the wooden planks, and disappeared out the door before Zitao could call him back and ask him more questions.

The hunter slumped back against the furs and thought about the situation. He had been dying; he knew that. Much of his memory of the previous night was a blur, but he remembered Junghwan shooting him and most of the fight that followed. With a bit of effort, Zitao wriggled one arm free and reached down to his chest, afraid of what he would find.

His fingers brushed raised, knotted skin, and a bit of slight pressure caused him to hiss quietly and pull his hand away. Still tender, clearly, but had that been a scar under his hand? There was no way he’d have scarred over already, unless Zitao had been unconscious for much longer than he’d thought.

The door opened, and Zitao’s head jerked around.

“Zitao,” Yifan said, standing tall and dangerous in the doorway, whiskey eyes locked on Zitao’s prone form.

Zitao tensed, trying to sit up further and largely failing. “Yifan,” he said, body exhausted just from that small amount of exertion. “Where am I? How am I still alive?”

Yifan came closer, not responding, eyes still fixed on Zitao. Zitao’s breath hitched, and he felt his heart begin to beat faster in his newly repaired chest as the powerful werewolf crouched by his side. Yifan smelt different; of fresh air and forest loam, and of something darker, stronger--something that made everything in Zitao sit up and take notice. “Before I answer your questions,” Yifan said, “how are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for quite a while. We were worried about you.”

“Who’s we?” Zitao asked, but he thought he already knew. The faces he could see peeking in the open door, as well as the whispers he could hear and the scents wafting through the room, rather gave it away--although there were quite a few more of those faces than he recognized.

Yifan’s mouth quirked, and he turned to beckon lazy fingers towards the door. “Come in, then, boys, but don’t crowd him.”

And in they came: the boy from before, Chen, leading the way, followed by Luhan, all blond hair and bright eyes, seeming to be in perfect health; Chanyeol, tall and energetic, bouncing across the room, followed quietly by a dark-haired boy with faraway eyes and a gentle smile; and then Baekhyun and Jongin, hesitantly stepping into the room with their three friends from the pub. All in all there were now eleven people in the room, and Zitao was glad that Yifan had warned them not to crowd him, because he was feeling oddly agitated and tense, eyes darting to the open door and the large window on the other side of the room. It was odd; he’d never had a problem with groups of people before.

And, he realized suddenly, he could _smell_ them. He hadn’t realized it before--he’d merely categorized the smells that came to him with each breath inward and then forgotten about it, but he could smell each of the young men in the room, what they’d eaten for breakfast and when they’d last passed through the forest. He could smell everything: the sharp tang of sweat, the dirt on their boots, each individual boy’s scent--

“What’s happening?” he asked, fear giving him energy as he struggled up to a sitting position. Yifan made a disapproving noise and moved forward to help, and Zitao froze as suddenly every single one of his senses was filled with the older man. His nose filled with Yifan’s musky, fascinating scent; his eyes fixed themselves on the flex of muscle in Yifan’s shoulder as he lifted Zitao further up the pile of furs; his ears narrowed in on the sound of Yifan’s heart, pounding firmly and steadily in his chest, thrumming in his throat mere inches away from Zitao’s mouth.

Zitao’s cock jumped, an unexpected--unwanted!--spike of arousal making him gasp and pull away, his sore chest complaining as he stared up at Yifan, eyes wide. “What’s happening!” he demanded as forcefully as he could, his voice still weak, his breath coming faster both from fear and from exertion. “I feel strange, what’s wrong with me! I can--I can smell things, and, and hear the forest, and you--you--”

“Zitao, calm down,” Yifan ordered, raising one huge hand to stroke it through Zitao’s red hair, and Zitao let out a bitten-off whine as he barely resisted the urge to arch into that hand and burrow into Yifan’s chest. For some reason he instinctually trusted Yifan, knew that Yifan would protect him and make things right--and that scared him almost as much as the changes he could feel in his body.

“Now,” Yifan continued, and Zitao looked up at him, noting that the other young men had spread out and crouched down as well, “what do you remember?”

Zitao bit his bottom lip. “I died,” he whispered. “Junghwan shot me. Why didn’t I die, Yifan?”

Yifan sat back on his heels and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “You didn’t die, Zitao,” he replied. “It was a close thing, and you’re not fully healed yet. You didn’t die because I bit you.”

Zitao blinked slowly, not understanding the significance of that. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I’ve been bitten by werewolves before. I healed like normal. Nothing special happened.”

“You’ve never been bitten by an alpha on a full moon,” Yifan said quietly, smoothing his hand over Zitao’s hair again. “Any werewolf’s bite can change a human on the full moon, but an alpha’s bite has a higher success rate and in general produces a stronger wolf.” He pulled his hand back and let it settle into his lap, eyes serious as he looked at Zitao. “I changed you into a werewolf, Zitao.”

Zitao’s breath stuttered. He could hear a faint ringing in his ears. “What,” he whispered.

“I changed you into a werewolf to save your life,” Yifan said soberly. “It was almost not enough; the arrow was silver, so even as your ribs and skin healed your body rejected the silver poison. It’s why you’re still weak and injured now--the poison is still in your system, running its course. It should hopefully be gone in a few days.” Yifan ran a hand over his mouth, eyes never leaving Zitao’s face. “I’m sorry, Zitao. But it was the only way to save your life.”

“Get out,” Zitao whispered. “All of you, get out.” If he wasn’t so weak, he would throw things at them, scream, hit Yifan until his rage and frustration were gone. As it was he could hardly lift his arm. “Get out! I don’t want to see you, I don’t want--” he cut off with a choked sound, pushing weakly at Yifan’s shoulder. “Out. Leave me alone.”

Yifan rose to his feet as Chanyeol let out a little whine behind him, the other boys shifting nervously, glancing between him and Zitao. Zitao realized that he could _smell_ how their anxiety changed their scent and let out another choked sound, wriggling weakly down and pulling one of the blankets over himself to hide from their view.

“I’ll send one of the boys in with food,” Yifan said quietly, and Zitao pulled the blanket higher around him in response, weakly wiggling onto his side so that his back was to the room. “I will not apologize for what I did, Zitao. I know it was not what you wanted, but I am glad that I was able to save your life.” Zitao heard the rustle of cloth and the soft pad of bare feet against the floor. “If you wish to talk to me, any one of my family will know where to find me.”

And then he was gone, Zitao could tell; his scent, although still strong, was fading without Yifan’s presence to keep it fresh. He ignored that, trying to stop breathing through his nose as he heard the other young men begin to move toward the door as well. One of them moved toward the bed instead, and Zitao’s nose told him _Luhan_ just before he felt a light hand on his head. “I’ll bring you some food in a little while, you must be starving,” Luhan told him, and then he too retreated, closing the door quietly after himself.

Zitao buried his face in the pile of furs and blankets and tried to ignore the fact that they smelled of Yifan and Luhan and Chanyeol and others, Yifan’s family, his _pack_. He ignored the fact that some part of his brain loved the smell, felt safe and protected all wrapped up in what must be their pack bed. He ignored the faint sounds and smells coming in through the open window as the other boys resumed whatever work he’d interrupted by waking up.

He ignored everything, and just thought about the fact that he had now become the one creature whom he had dedicated his life to killing.

\---

Somewhere between thinking about what it meant to be a werewolf and Luhan returning with food, Zitao fell asleep, his healing body exhausted by the energy it had taken to remain awake and listen to Yifan. He was woken by a soft rustle of blankets and a hand on his arm, Luhan’s voice murmuring his name quietly. Zitao’s eyes fluttered open, blinking dazedly as his sleepy mind took a moment to adjust.

Luhan was kneeling on the blankets next to him, one hand bracing himself as the other one rested on Zitao’s arm. “Food,” he said, and Zitao’s stomach growled loudly as he realized that he could smell something delicious.

He fought into a relatively upright position, Luhan supporting him as he panted and struggled. When he finally leaned back against the furs, already exhausted again, Luhan drew back and grabbed a rough wooden tray. “Here,” he said, plopping the tray into Zitao’s lap. “Eat everything.”

That wouldn’t be a problem, Zitao thought as he attacked the tray. It was only as he carved chunks of meat off of the haunch of venison, though, that he realized what he was eating. “This is practically raw!” he said through a mouthful of meat, some of the juices escaping and dribbling down his chin. He wiped his mouth sheepishly and couldn’t keep himself from carving off another bite, the steaming meat only lightly seared on the outside and the inside still pink and oozing juices. Zitao’s stomach--and his mouth, for that matter--found it to be the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

Luhan grinned, sitting back on his heels as he watched Zitao devour the meat. “Don’t forget the vegetables,” he cautioned, and Zitao obediently scooped up a bit of cooked greens. “As much as our wolf selves would like to subsist only on meat, as humans we need vegetables. You’ll find, however, that you’ll never again be able to eat fully cooked meat without gagging.” Luhan shrugged, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Not like that’s a loss.”

Zitao thought about that as he cleared the tray, his previously painfully empty stomach now full and warm and happy. Then he sighed and pushed the tray away, leaning back against the furs as he tired again. “Why are you being nice to me?” he asked, blinking sleepy eyes at Luhan.

Luhan pressed his lips together and didn’t meet Zitao’s eyes as he moved the tray to the floor. “You fought that hunter for us,” he finally replied. “You kept me from getting killed before the rest of my family arrived. And you’re a werewolf now. As much as I don’t wish it on anyone, you are part of the pack now. You’re one of us.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll be back with more food in a couple of hours. Try to go back to sleep.”

“A couple of hours?” Zitao asked, eyelids already drooping from the combined effect of his healing body and full belly. “I just ate a huge meal.”

He could hear the amusement in Luhan’s voice as the blond said, “You’ll be hungry again, trust me.” Zitao heard the door open and close quietly on the very edge of his consciousness as sleep pulled him back under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it! I doubt it came as a surprise to anyone xD; and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up sooner, though I am unhappy with where I was taking this story and so I am currently rewriting a fair bit of it. Only a couple more chapters: I'm trying to wrap everything up now and it is not working very well ;A; So look forward to it!


	6. Chapter 6

Two days passed. Zitao healed slowly, chafing at the limitations of his body. Yixing, the quiet, dreamy boy who had followed Chanyeol, said that it was common for a silver poisoning to last for up to two weeks. Luhan concurred when he came in and curled up on a different part of the pack bed for a nap, his own body not entirely finished fighting off the effects of the silver wound he’d received from Junghwan’s dagger.

Chen dropped by and sat with Zitao for a while, working on what looked like a pair of leather pants. Chanyeol spent an hour making Zitao laugh painfully as the tall man described his first attempts at hunting. Yixing, who was apparently the werewolves’ healer even though he had very little experience, checked on him at least twice a day. Zitao also met Minseok, the last member of the pack, who had been out hunting when he’d woken up the first time. Even the boys from the town, Baekhyun and Jongin and their friends, stopped in to tell Zitao about the events of that night.

“It was a mess,” Junmyeon said, his calm eyes fixed on Zitao. Even though he was one of the smallest men, Junmyeon was the oldest and the leader of the group of friends. “Baekhyun was raging, and the whole village knew something was up. They were all for killing both of you and just leaving your bodies in the woods, but you disappeared before they could come to a decision and, well, even though we get along with Yifan’s family, it’s plain foolishness to go into a werewolf’s forest the night of the full moon. But we couldn’t just do nothing, so when we heard the howls we got a group together with lots of torches.” Junmyeon smiled wryly. “ _Lots_ of torches. And we headed out. We caught up with you just in time to see Yifan bite you.”

Kyungsoo, a short boy with wide eyes who seemed to stick to Jongin’s side, shuddered. “Never want to see that again,” he said feelingly. “Yifan’s head all wolflike, and you lying there with your chest pumping your heart’s blood onto the ground. What _happened_ before we got there?”

Zitao shrugged, still tired from healing. “Luhan didn’ tell you?”

Kyungsoo frowned and looked down. “Luhan, uh, doesn’t seem to like us that much. Except for Jongin.” Jongin ducked his head, looking a bit embarrassedly pleased.

“Mm,” Zitao yawned. “Junghwan--the other hunter--thought I was gonna warn the wolves,” he said, his words slurring a little, too tired to speak properly. “Which of course I was, ‘n’ he followed me. When Luhan found me he shot me in th’ chest an’ tried to kill Luhan, but we held him off ‘ntil Chen arrived. Then th’ others came an’ killed him, ‘n’ Yifan pulled the arrowhead outta me.” His forehead crinkled. “I remember you,” he said. “When I was dying, there were gold’n lights an’ voices. Thought it was the gods, or somethin’. Musta been you guys.”

“You fought him off with Luhan?” the last member of the group asked incredulously, a tall skinny boy whose name Zitao was pretty sure started with an S. “That hunter was huge! He was almost twice Luhan’s size!”

“And I still beat him, you brat,” Luhan said from the door, but his tone was softer than it usually was when he spoke to humans. “All right, everybody out. Zitao needs to eat and sleep.”

Zitao pouted even as his eyes slipped closed in a long sleepy blink. “All I do is eat an’ sleep, Luhan,” he complained. “I need to _talk_ to people.”

“Talk to me,” Luhan ordered as the town boys stood to go. Zitao caught a brief flash of dissatisfaction or anger on Jongin’s face, but the boy turned to leave with the others. Luhan brushed past him, setting Zitao’s usual tray down by the nest of blankets and furs, and Zitao perked up a little as Jongin’s scent changed slightly. What did that mean?

When he asked Luhan, though, the older werewolf just laughed. “Get used to confusion,” he told Zitao as Zitao began eating. “People think that just because you can smell almost everything you can also understand everything, but people’s scents change for all kinds of reasons. Some are more obvious than others. Sometimes you can guess, sometimes you can’t.”

Luhan sat and watched Zitao eat for a little while. “It’s not terrible,” he finally said quietly when Zitao was almost finished. “Being a werewolf,” he clarified at Zitao’s confused look. “I know it’s different for you. I was changed much younger, and my family knew how to deal with a werewolf child--it wasn’t the first time someone in my family had been turned. You… I think you have memories of your family being killed like mine was killed, by a monster.” Luhan’s smile was bleak, his eyes filled with sadness. “The monsters were just different, weren’t they?”

Zitao nodded, speechless at his sudden realization. Luhan’s family had been killed by a hunter, just as his own family had been killed by a werewolf. No wonder Luhan had been so terrified when Zitao had shown up--neither of them had ever been given any reason to believe that the people who had killed their families were anything other than monsters.

Luhan patted Zitao’s fur-covered lap. “Think about what being a werewolf means,” he ordered quietly. “It does not mean madness and murder. Your life is not over. Think about it, and forgive Yifan, yes?” He got to his feet, hoisting the tray in one hand. “He couldn’t have let you die, so don’t punish him for saving your life.”

Zitao frowned weakly, far too tired to think about such heavy topics. “I’m not punishing him,” he said.

Luhan gave a wry smile. “Then why don’t you tell him that?” He ruffled Zitao’s hair and left, the door closing behind him.

Zitao settled back into his bed, now with far too many things to think about.

\---

It took Zitao a week before he could reliably get out of bed under his own power. When he finally managed to make it all the way to the door without aid, he leaned against the wall for a short rest before opening the door and stepping out into the sun.

He had been outside since he was wounded, of course. Both Chen and Luhan, his main caretakers, had declared that there was no way they were going to clean bedpans for him, so every day he was helped to the outdoor privy to do his business. But this was the first time that he had nowhere to be and no one around, so Zitao set off to do some exploring.

The wolves’ home was quite impressive. It was a sprawling wooden complex with rooms for each of the wolves, though Luhan had told Zitao that they almost always slept together in the big pile of furs and blankets that was Zitao’s current bed. Zitao had apologized for taking over their bed and Luhan had laughed and said that it had been the only place where a feverish, wounded Zitao would rest calmly. Zitao very determinedly didn’t think about what that meant.

The house had a big kitchen somewhere, as well as storage rooms for food and furs that hadn’t been cured yet. Zitao wanted to explore it all. But, since he knew the other wolves would yell at him to not overstrain himself, he kept his goal aimed for the kitchen, where he could smell something absolutely delicious cooking.

Zitao could hear the quiet, calm voice of Yixing as he approached, but the scent of searing meat and rich broth masked the scents of whoever else was in the kitchen. Zitao had gotten along with all of the wolves and even the humans that he’d met so far, so he didn’t hesitate to push open the door and make his way carefully into the large open room, keeping one hand on the wall just in case his legs decided to give out on him.

When he rounded the corner and saw Yifan sitting casually on one of the countertops, listening to Yixing speak as he stirred a simmering pot, Zitao wished that he’d checked the room’s occupants more carefully.

Yifan’s head turned at Zitao’s entrance, and his eyes widened and his body froze as he realized who it was. Clearly they hadn’t heard--or smelled--him coming either. Yixing glanced over his shoulder and gave Zitao a smile. “You’re up,” he said with mild surprise. “I’m impressed you made it all the way here by yourself. Sit down before you faint and Luhan maims me for impeding your recovery.”

Zitao wobbled over to a chair and sat gratefully, focusing very carefully on Yixing and not letting his eyes stray to Yifan’s still, silent form on the countertop. “Luhan wouldn’t maim you,” he said inanely, more for something to fill the silence than in actual protest.

Yixing chuckled, moving to a table and chopping up a head of cabbage. “Oh yes he would. He’s very protective of you. It takes a lot to get on Luhan’s good side, but once you’re there you’ll never leave.” He seemed completely unaware of the tension thrumming between Yifan and Zitao, checking on the large haunch of meat roasting on a spit and moving around the kitchen as he continued to prepare supper.

“How are you feeling?”

Zitao actually flinched slightly at Yifan’s low voice, he was so on edge. “Much better,” he replied, directing his gaze to the cupboards below the alpha wolf rather than look directly at him. Yifan’s feet, as ever, were bare, and Zitao found his eyes drawn to their lean strength, the graceful muscle in Yifan’s legs. “I’m still weak, but Luhan says that’ll last for a while.” He could smell both wolves now, their rich scents mingling with the smell of dinner. Was it normal that he could pick out Yifan’s scent above all the others?

“You were very badly poisoned,” Yifan said, and his voice sent shivers down Zitao’s spine. “And silver always takes longer than you expect, for us.”

Zitao nodded, and the kitchen fell silent. The soft sounds of Yixing cooking barely eased the tension, and Zitao found his gaze inexorably drawn to Yifan’s form, his eyes tracing the long, leanly muscled body, noting the coiled strength in the wolf’s body, the danger present even as Yifan sat at rest in his kitchen. Then he finally met Yifan’s eyes, the whiskey-golden gaze trapping and holding him as securely as if Yifan had wrapped his arms around him. Zitao shivered, and heat sparked low in his belly as his cock twitched.

Yixing’s head cocked to the side, and Zitao saw Yifan’s nostrils flare and his eyes grow wide. “Oh,” Yixing chuckled. “So that’s how it is.” Yifan looked away from Zitao, staring determinedly into a corner of the room, and Zitao blinked, feeling a little dazed.

“What?” he asked, his eyes now tracing the line of Yifan’s neck, exposed by the way he’d turned his head. “That’s how what is?”

Yifan now seemed to be taking very shallow breaths through his mouth, and Yixing had a wry grin curling one corner of his mouth. “You know, this explains a lot, Yifan. I had wondered why you were so interested in a hunter, even one so determined as Zitao. This explains _everything_.”

Zitao frowned, still not understanding what they were talking about, and took a deep breath in, deciding that by their reactions, it had to do with a scent of some kind. He only smelled the normal things; supper, the sun-warmed wood of the house, Yixing’s crisp scent, and Yifan’s rich musk. Then he cocked his head--there was something different about Yifan’s scent, something sharper, something that made Zitao’s skin tingle and his cock twitch. What did that--then his eyes widened. “You can _smell_ me!” he said, shocked.

“Why yes, we can,” Yixing replied, voice warmly amused. “We are werewolves, you know.”

“No, but--I mean, you can _smell_ me!” Zitao accused, face beginning to flush with heat as the true meaning of his realization sank in. “You can smell…” he broke off, unable to finish his sentence from embarrassment.

“Mm,” Yixing agreed, removing the meat from the fire and laying it on the tray ready for it, pulling out the heavy spit with deceptive ease. “As I said, it explains much about your interactions with Yifan. Attraction is always an excellent motivator.”

Zitao let out a whine and laid his face down on the table, pressing his burning cheek against the cool wood. Yixing patted his shoulder as he passed. Then Zitao jerked upright again, a thought occurring. He scowled at Yifan. “Then you _knew_!” he accused. “From the first time we met, you knew that I--” he cut himself off, still unable to actually say the words aloud.

“I knew that you were…attracted to me,” Yifan agreed, finally shifting his whiskey gaze back to Zitao. “And although you didn’t know it at the time, it was--is--mutual. I found you an exceedingly intriguing human, and your protection of Luhan and defense against that hunter only proved me correct. I could not see all your potential go to waste.”

Zitao thought about that for a while, putting his folded arms on the table and resting his head on them. “Luhan told me that I should forgive you,” he said abruptly, looking up at Yifan. “For turning me. He thinks I’m punishing you for making me a… a werewolf, but I’m not. Not intentionally.” He took a deep breath. “If… I made you think that I was, I apologize. I said some angry things when I first woke up. I don’t… if I can be like you, and the others, I don’t think being a werewolf will be that bad.”

The kitchen was silent. Zitao could feel his heart beating in his chest, his entire focus fixed on Yifan as he waited for the alpha wolf’s response. “Thank you,” Yifan finally said, and Zitao let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I will tell you now, it will not be easy. You were lucky in that you slept through the first few days of your change, and you’ve been weakened by your poisoning and had us to help you with the rest. After your first full moon, when your wolf fully awakens, will come the real challenge. I did you no favor, Zitao, making you one of us.”

“You saved my life,” Zitao replied, meeting Yifan’s eyes steadily. “That seems like a rather large favor, by any reckoning. And I have yet to properly thank you for that.” _Your family is amazing,_ he didn't say, struck by a sudden yearning. _I wish you would let me stay._ There was little doubt in Zitao’s mind that once he was healed from the silver poisoning, the pack would kick him out. There was no way that they would want to keep a former hunter around.

“Well,” Yixing said, and Zitao jumped (he’d entirely forgotten the other man was there), “you can properly thank him later, supper’s ready.” Even though Yixing put no special emphasis on ‘properly thank,’ Zitao flushed anyway, suddenly reminded of the fact that werewolves could _smell arousal_. “Since you made it all the way out here,” Yixing continued, “I see no reason why you shouldn’t eat with the rest of us.” He lifted the heavy tray of steaming meat with no apparent strain and carried it out of the kitchen.

Yifan gave Zitao a small smile and slid down off the counter, his bare feet hitting the floor with no sound. “Would you ring the bell on the porch?” he asked, moving to the stove and carefully lifting the pot of soup. Zitao tore his eyes away from the flex in Yifan’s arms, the shift of muscles in his strong back. “It’ll let the others know to come in from wherever they are.”

Zitao obeyed, carefully getting to his feet and moving slowly to the door. There was indeed a large bell at the top of a post, and Zitao rang it several times, wincing as the loud sound pierced his sensitive ears.

Chen bounded silently onto the porch, bare-chested and streaked with dirt. “Hey!” He tapped Zitao’s shoulder lightly with the back of his hand and then, to Zitao’s surprise, nuzzled against Zitao’s head, rubbing their cheeks together briefly and filling Zitao’s nose with the smell of sweat and dirt and forest. “You’re up. Don’t stand too long, you’ve still got silver in your system.” He disappeared into the main room, where a thump and a yelp sounded like he’d jumped on Yixing.

Zitao brushed a hand over his cheek, the skin still warm from Chen’s body heat. That had been… surprising, but Zitao couldn’t deny that he’d liked it, that brief connection with the older man. “Hey!” someone said, and Zitao looked around. Luhan stood in front of him, hands on his hips and a ferocious scowl on the small man’s face. “ _Why_ are you standing up!” It did not sound like a question.

Zitao blinked, some instinct in him making him duck his head in an attempt to seem smaller. “Um,” he said meekly, “I felt good enough to take a walk, and I found Yixing and Yifan in the kitchen, so--”

“You are _not_ healed yet,” Luhan said sternly, bounding up onto the porch with just two steps and taking Zitao’s face in his hands. He looked the younger man over for signs of strain or weariness. “Get inside and sit down, and don’t move until I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir,” Zitao said obediently, and let Luhan chivvy him inside.

“Oh,” Minseok said in surprise from the doorway as Luhan was fussing about arranging a soft seat for Zitao. “You’re up!” He moved into the room and pulled a few furs over for himself, making a nice little seat on the ground in front of the low table where the food was spread out. “Chanyeol might be a little late,” he told Yifan. “He went pretty far afield today, I think.”

“He who is late gets the leftovers,” Yifan said calmly, carving out hunks of meat for each of the wolves sitting at the table.

Zitao’s stomach was growling--he seemed to be in a constant state of hunger these days--but when he reached for the steaming, bloody meat on his plate, Luhan smacked his hand lightly. Zitao bit back a whine and turned big eyes on the small blond, but Luhan just shook his head. “Yifan eats first,” he told him quietly. “Always.”

Zitao looked down the table to where Yifan was sitting. Indeed, none of the other wolves had made a move toward their plates, though Zitao could hear several stomachs other than his making noise. Only after Yifan had begun to eat did they reach for their own food.

Zitao chewed contemplatively, thinking about what he’d just seen. Was that a respectful gesture, or was that in deference to wolf hierarchy? Yifan was absolutely, unequivocally the alpha wolf of this pack; Zitao could feel his strength somewhere deep inside him, a shivery feeling that only increased the closer he got to Yifan. After thinking about it for a little while, Zitao shrugged internally. It didn’t really matter if it was a wolf thing or a human thing, because it still happened, and that was the important part. He’d have to remember that in the future.

There was a thump on the porch, and Chanyeol walked through the door, grinning and messy from a run through the woods. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking the only seat open, at the opposite end of the table from Yifan.

Zitao cocked his head. Chanyeol didn’t just smell of the forest--there was another scent mixed in with his, one that Zitao recognized, though it took him a moment to place it. When he did, his eyes widened. Chanyeol smelled like Baekhyun, that boy from town.

“Still panting after that boy, Chanyeol?” Minseok asked dryly, dipping his bowl into the pot of soup. He set it in front of Yifan before picking up another bowl and serving himself, Zitao noted. “Now that he knows what you are, I’m surprised he still lets you hang around.”

Chanyeol shrugged and grinned through a mouthful of meat. “I’m wearing him down,” he said cheerfully.

But Zitao was frowning. “What do you mean, now that he knows?” he asked. “Didn’t the townsfolk already know about you?”

Chen shook his head, slurping up some hot soup. “They suspected,” he said. “We live much longer than humans do, after all. Minseok has lived on this mountain for… two generations of men, I think? And the lack of big game is always a sign. But they didn’t know for sure until you arrived. We’re hoping they don’t do anything, now that they’ve had it confirmed.”

“Oh,” Zitao said, and stopped eating. “I… I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Chen asked, glancing up at him. Then he snorted. “For revealing it?”

“They were always going to find out at some point,” Minseok said. “We do howl at night, and they know to stay indoors around the full moon. I’ve had people from this town find out before, and we haven’t come to harm yet. And considering we run off anything else that wants to set up around here, I think they’re also a bit grateful. Of course, I’ve never had so many young men discover us, but Chanyeol’s Baekhyun seems to have a good head on his shoulders.” Chanyeol beamed at Minseok’s casual acknowledgement of his claim on Baekhyun.

“He does,” Zitao said, wondering just how old Minseok was, exactly. “He, uh… When Junghwan arrived, he threatened my life if anything happened to your family. He was very convincing.”

“Really?” Minseok looked interested. “Then he already knew what we were. Chanyeol, you didn’t tell him?”

Chanyeol looked offended. “I’d never!” he said. “Even for Baekhyun, that’s the first rule!”

But Zitao had stopped eating, a sudden thought occurring. “I have to leave,” he said, apropos of nothing.

Everyone stopped eating and looked at him.

“You can’t,” Luhan said, laying a hand on his arm, eyes wide. “You… you haven’t even gone through one full moon, you don’t have control yet. It would be a massacre if you left now.”

“Exactly,” Zitao said, his pulse beating faster as he truly realized the extent of the situation. “How long have I been here?”

“With us, or in town?” Yifan asked, eyes sharp.

“Both. How long have I been hunting you?”

“It’s been about a month and a half, now.”

“So the full moon is coming up again--I’m too close to the town, I need to get as far away as possible before the moon rises. I have to go.” Zitao pressed his hands to the table and tried to lever himself upright, but he barely got to his knees before his vision swam and a wave of dizziness nearly knocked him over.

“There, see,” Luhan scolded, his strong hands catching Zitao and helping him slide gently back to the ground, “you’ve overdone it. And honestly, what are you even saying? Did you think we would let a brand new werewolf run around our forest and possibly endanger our humans? After all the work we put into making you well?”

Zitao blinked. He’d never even thought of that. 

Yifan set his elbows on the table, linking his fingers and staring at Zitao over them. Finally he said, “Zitao’s right, he needs to be trained. It might even be better to start now, while he’s still weak and can’t cause too much damage. Now that he’s on his feet--”

“Barely,” Luhan interrupted, leaning into Zitao’s side a little, and Zitao felt shyly pleased at the older boy’s protectiveness.

Yifan ignored him. “--He can start basic things at the very least, scent control and shift control and such.”

Zitao didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but it sounded important. “All right,” he said. “We should start tomorrow.”

Yifan looked at him, and some instinct had Zitao ducking his head and avoiding eye contact. “Yes,” Yifan agreed. “We’ll start tomorrow. Who wants to help?”

“Me!” five voices said in unison, and Zitao couldn’t stop the flush of happiness that rose to his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tralalalaaaa yay for character-building :3 I can't believe this is already the sixth chapter and we're only just being introduced to all of the members of EXO Dx ugh I am a terrible author. But I mentioned most of them before!! How many references did you catch? :3
> 
> Just a few more now, I swear...


	7. Chapter 7

 

There were twenty days until the next full moon.

 _That’s why Yifan is training me now,_ Zitao told himself, tying the laces of his boots with slightly fumbling hands. They felt strange and uncomfortable on his feet. _He’s the alpha. He’s strong enough to stop me if something goes wrong._

A shadow fell over him, and Zitao looked up. Yifan was standing there, a bag slung over his shoulder and his feet, as ever, bare. “Chen’s already in the forest, getting things prepared,” Yifan said. “Ready?”

Zitao stood up and nodded. “Let’s go.”

“This won’t be easy,” Yifan cautioned. “We don’t have a lot of time before the full moon, so I’m going to be running you hard. You’re going to be a bit miserable.”

Zitao shifted his feet, trying to get his boots to settle comfortably. “I can handle it.”

Yifan’s eyes glinted with amusement, but Zitao didn’t see it. “All right. Let’s go.”

“Don’t die,” Luhan called from the porch, where he was sitting cross-legged and doing something with a pile of furs. “After all the work I put in to get you healthy, I will be very upset if you get yourself killed.”

Zitao grinned over his shoulder. “I’ll be careful. Bye, Luhan!” And he loped carefully into the forest after Yifan’s disappearing form.

\---

“We’ll be doing the most basic control exercises today,” Yifan told Zitao, sunlight filtering through the trees and catching golden in his hair. “Scent control. The forest is a great place to practice; there are so many ambient scents around that you have to focus in order to find the one you want, and it’s easy to get distracted or lose the trail. Chen has been wandering around setting a trail for about half an hour, now. Your job is to find him.”

Zitao nodded, trying to keep himself from shifting restlessly on his feet. There were so many _things_ in the forest, so many new smells that he’d never noticed or never realized were so strong. He was actually--secretly, and slightly guiltily--excited about this.

“Go,” Yifan said, and Zitao took off, trying to find Chen.

\---

Training was _difficult_. Zitao hadn’t trained so hard since he first became a hunter, and in some ways training to be a werewolf was even more exhausting. Yifan was relentless, driving Zitao to the edge of his silver-weakened stamina again and again, and the other wolves were no better--weakness was deadly, in the world in which they lived, and though they seemed willing to protect Zitao, they were also determined to get him as strong as possible as fast as possible.

Zitao loved it.

He never worked so well as when he had a concrete goal to strive for, and his own body was the best tool he’d ever had. The worst part was the silver poison; it weakened him at unexpected moments, making him feel almost healed one day and then the next barely able to complete a basic listening exercise. It was frustrating, and Zitao found himself snapping at the other wolves, getting angry more easily and taking offense at things he normally wouldn’t even notice.

Then one day he snarled-- _snarled_ \--at Chen, and his fangs dropped.

Zitao froze, instant panic overwhelming every bit of his anger. His gums itched a little, his teeth felt _strange_ , and he was terrified to even close his lips.

“Oh, wow,” Chen said, edging forward slightly, “so it finally happened? That’s good, let me go get Yifan and Luhan.” And he dashed off, leaving Zitao to panic on his own in the clearing where they’d been training.

Chen was back quickly, though, and Zitao nearly whimpered as the comforting scents of Yifan and Luhan rolled over him. “Wow,” Yifan said, coming to a halt in front of Zitao, who stared up at him with wide eyes. “Well, this is good. I was starting to worry that you hadn’t shown any signs of changing yet.”

“This is _good_?” Zitao wanted to yell, but he was slightly terrified of slicing his tongue open on his new teeth, so he didn’t open his mouth. Even so, a whine broke through his throat, wordlessly asking his Alpha to fix this.

“It’s all right,” Yifan soothed, placing his big hands on Zitao’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn to control the shift just as you’ve learned to control everything else; you’ll be fine.” He carefully talked Zitao through changing his teeth back to human, infinitely patient as Zitao lost concentration three times and shifted back to fangs. Finally, with a faint _pop_ that was felt more in Zitao’s mind than in his mouth, the young werewolf’s fangs receded and he ran his tongue carefully over perfectly normal teeth again.

“Good job, Zitao!” Luhan yelled, tackling him and rolling him around on the forest floor in celebration. Zitao laughed, much more used to the rough-and-tumble wolf way of showing affection than he used to be, and threw Luhan off, getting to his feet.

“I’m gonna be able to take you in a fight, soon, Luhan!” he grinned down at the older wolf.

“You can try, pipsqueak,” Luhan growled, crouching on all fours and shaking himself as though he was covered in water.

“Whoa,” Zitao said, his vision suddenly blacking over, and he sat down hard on the ground, his heart pounding fast in his chest. Yifan’s broad hands caught his shoulders and helped him stay sitting up, and Zitao leaned back into his support gratefully, taking deep breaths as his dizziness slowly passed. “That was a bit too much, I guess.” He scowled, deeply unhappy about his body’s inability to respond to his demands.

"Don't worry," Yifan's voice rumbled through his back, and Zitao shivered, arousal giving a little hum through his body. "You'll heal soon enough. The full moon is next week, and after that, well. I bet you’ll be ready for anything.”

Zitao wished he was that confident.

\---

Zitao woke up itchy the day of the full moon. It was the only word he could think of that described the tense, restless feeling under his skin. He prowled around the house, getting into brief spats with Chanyeol and Chen before running off into the woods to hide for a little while. He'd never felt this hot, roiling energy before; he didn't know how to control it.

It became worse as the sun went down, and the whole pack found themselves gathering in front of the house, waiting in tense silence for the sunlight to disappear and the moon to take hold.

And then, finally, it did.

Zitao gasped as the hot feeling inside him peaked, flooding his entire body with tingling, wrenching power. He dropped to his knees, breathless, trying to make sense of the world as his flesh moved and rippled, as he _shifted_. There was an intense, blinding moment of pain so fierce he couldn't stop himself from crying out, his voice unrecognizable as it emerged from his throat, a fey mix of man and wolf that howled into the night as the pain flared, peaked--and was gone.

Zitao panted into the ground, face pressed into the cool leaf-covered earth, muscles trembling as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He felt... Different. Wilder, more powerful. He raised his head, and then looked down at his paws.

 _Paws_.

He was a true werewolf now. He could feel the wildness, the urge to hunt, to kill, coursing through his blood. He shook out his fur and snarled at the scents of wolves nearby, baring his teeth as he prepared to fight, to _tear_ them apa---

A massive paw came out of nowhere and bowled Zitao nose over tail, a surprised yelp breaking out of his throat. The huge black wolf who had knocked him over stood over him as he lay dazed on the ground, upper lip barely lifted and an almost subsonic growl rumbling deep in his chest. Zitao whined and flattened his ears to his head, tilting his neck further to one side to bare his throat. This was the Alpha, Zitao knew instantly, his power rolling over the prone wolf and nearly making him pant with mixed fear and arousal. Zitao lay still and hoped that his submission was good enough.

Finally, after a long pause, the Alpha stepped back and let Zitao get back to his feet. Zitao popped up and shook out his fur, ready to run and play---only to go down _again_ , another surprised yelp breaking free as he was bowled over by a smaller wolf. This wolf was also above Zitao despite his smaller size, more powerful and higher in the pack hierarchy, but Zitao _knew_ him, liked him, and he snapped playfully at the older wolf’s flanks, wriggling out from under him and prancing about, ready to play.

The night passed in a blur of running and playing, Zitao delighting in the power of his senses and eager to try all sorts of things. Every once in a while he would get defensive and angry, snapping at the other wolves or trying to head down the mountain where something was faintly calling to him, tempting him out of the safety of the woods, but the Alpha was always immediately there, pressing him to the ground or growling him into submission, and Zitao would instantly forget whatever he had been doing, completely focused on the big black wolf.

He _loved_ the Alpha. None of the other wolves were mated, and the Alpha was paying more attention to him than anyone else, and that was exactly how Zitao liked it. He found himself trying to draw the Alpha’s attention further, prancing around him and dashing off whenever he scented prey, trying to catch the Alpha something to show how good of a mate he would be. It didn’t work too well; Zitao was not a very good hunter yet. But the Alpha didn’t seem to mind.

Eventually all of the other wolves drifted off, hunting or playing or running through the forest under the cool light of the moon, and it was only Zitao and the Alpha, trotting through the woods side by side, traveling through the night together.

\---

Zitao woke up to a mouthful of pine needles and the violent urge to sneeze. He did so immediately, sneezing three times in rapid succession, and grumbled indistinctly, trying to sit up. He was only half successful, because Yifan was draped over his back.

Zitao stared around, trying to understand what had happened. He was lying in a hollow in a grove of pine trees, stark naked, with an equally naked Yifan just waking up on top of him. It was morning, weak sunlight drifting down through the canopy above them, and Zitao was harder than he’d ever been in his life.

He bit his lip, unsure of what to do, and then Yifan muttered something incoherent and tugged Zitao closer---thrusting an equally hard cock between Zitao’s thighs. Zitao let out a high-pitched whimper, cock jerking, and Yifan froze.

“Zitao,” Yifan’s voice rumbled, and Zitao’s back arched involuntarily as he felt the vibrations echo through his body. Gasping, he looked up, and Yifan's face was intent, eyes still wolf-gold in the morning light. “Zitao, tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” Zitao told him, not sure what precisely Yifan was referring to---a quick fuck? Something more long-term?---and not caring. Anything, everything, Zitao wanted all of it.  
  
“Thank all the gods,” Yifan breathed, and they erupted into a flurry of movement. They struggled against each other, Zitao squirming to turn around, get his hands on his alpha’s skin, and Yifan trying to grab his wrists, to hold them and pin them.  
  
Zitao got turned halfway around before he was caught, forced to be still with his wrists held tight in one of Yifan’s huge hands. He froze when Yifan ducked in, breath harsh, the werewolf scenting him, running his nose along Zitao's throat. Body shaking with fine tremors, Zitao carefully tilted his head back, baring his throat freely and making Yifan whine.  
  
“Mate me,” Zitao said, and Yifan's eyes slipped closed in pain, his hips moving helplessly at the demand, his jaw clenched, pulse a frantic flutter in his throat. Zitao tried to arch up to get his mouth on that tempting skin, but Yifan held him down. Foiled, he groaned, “Please. Fuck, Yifan. Claim me--"  
  
He ended up face-first in the dirt again, spitting out pine needles with the wolf at his back, and this time Yifan didn’t stop, fucking his thick cock between Zitao’s thighs and rutting hard, making Zitao cry out with the sensation.  
  
“Zitao,” Yifan panted, pulling off just as quickly as he had started, “we don’t have any slick, we can’t--I don’t want to hurt you--”  
  
“Just a little, just a little bit,” Zitao begged, lifting his ass, offering. He felt hot, out of control, hungry in a way that he’d never felt before. It would have frightened him, this kind of overwhelming desire, if he hadn’t been suppressing it for weeks, trying to avoid Yifan’s eyes and act as normal as he could. But after last night any kind of restraint he’d still been holding onto was gone, and he _wanted_.

Yifan groaned, dirty and low, and pressed himself back against Zitao’s body, hands gripping, sliding across Zitao’s skin as his mouth left stinging kiss marks across the younger man’s shoulders, teeth biting just enough to make Zitao jolt and moan, lifting his ass as much as he could, pinned under Yifan’s heavy body.  
  
“Gods and spirits,” Yifan breathed.  
  
“Mark me inside. Just a little--” Zitao begged, trying to get on his knees. Yifan let out a moan and Zitao felt the blunt head of his cock nudge along the seam of his ass, pressing right at where he was tight and hot and receptive.  
  
“Please, just a little--” Zitao cried out as Yifan started pressing his ass apart, just the very rim, a wide, sharp stretch.  
  
A hand found the nape of his neck and clamped there, searing hot against his skin as Zitao whined, ass just barely breached, opened up enough to hurt but not enough to make him claw away. He went pliant under Yifan’s hand, listening as Yifan started to stroke off, the frantic beat of it catching in his ass where Yifan’s cockhead jolted and hardened in him, thickening.  
  
"Yes, fuck. Mark me,” Zitao breathed harshly, barely aware of what he was saying, and Yifan’s body froze up over him, hips stuttering and fucking his cockhead further in, pressing Zitao’s ass open more. Zitao let out a high-pitched whine, fingers scrabbling in the dirt, the scent of crushed pine needles filling his nose as his ass was spread wide, burning and uncomfortable and perfect.

Then it was over, Zitao letting out a long moan when he felt the rush of his alpha’s come, Yifan’s cockhead jerking as wet warmth soothed him inside where Zitao was sore and stretched. The bigger wolf let out a low growl as he finished, and Zitao’s mouth opened in a soundless gasp of shock when Yifan’s cock slid deeper, riding on the wet mess he made inside him.  
  
The two of them lay there for a long moment, panting, trying to catch their breath. Zitao clenched weakly around the cockhead still buried inside him and Yifan jerked as though he’d been punched, pulling back and sliding out carefully, running a calloused thumb over Zitao’s hot, sensitive hole and pushing a little trickle of his come back inside the younger man’s body. Zitao twitched and whined, oversensitive almost to the point of pain, and Yifan shushed him soothingly, rolling him over onto his back. Zitao barely got a glance of his alpha’s smug eyes before Yifan ducked down and swallowed his cock to the root.

Zitao cried out, clawing at Yifan's soft hair, the ground, fighting against the sudden intensity, the mind-breaking pleasure of being deep inside Yifan's hot mouth. Already on the edge, it took him barely a minute to come, pouring into his alpha’s mouth as his ass fluttered weakly, gaping and empty.

They lay curled around each other, panting and sweaty, enjoying the silence as the morning sun inched its way across the ground. The forest was quiet around them, the only sounds the whispering of the wind in the branches of the trees and, far off in the distance, birdsong. It felt as though nothing else in the world existed except for them.

Finally Yifan groaned and sat up, shaking his head as though trying to reorient himself. “We should head back,” he said, looking down at Zitao. “The others will probably have made their own ways back to the house by now, and they’ll be wondering where we are.”

Zitao hummed acknowledgement, stretching out his sore muscles and sitting up. “All right.” Then he grimaced as he felt a trickle of come slip out of his ass and slide down his leg. “Um. I think I need to find a stream before we get back, though.”

Yifan grinned, gaze going hot as he dragged it up and down Zitao’s body. “I don’t know. I rather like the idea of you walking into the house covered in me.”

Zitao’s mouth gaped open in surprise, and then he laughed, relief filling him up like bubbles of sunlight. He’d worried--but Yifan seemed to want to keep him, both in the pack and in his bed, and Zitao couldn’t imagine anything he wanted more. “Well,” he grinned, getting a little shakily to his feet, “you might like that, but I don’t fancy trying to run through the forest with drying come sticking to my legs. And I think we’re going to get teased enough as it is.”

“Mm, you’re probably right,” Yifan agreed, eyes still hot on Zitao’s body as he stretched out tight limbs and got ready to run the distance back to their house. “Luhan is already going to be very smug, there’s no reason to give him more to laugh about.”

“He’ll be insufferable,” Zitao agreed fondly, and then shyly held out his hand. Yifan took it and let the younger man pull him to his feet, stepping in close so that their bare skin brushed against each other. “Let’s go.”

With quick, quiet steps, the two wolves headed back toward their home together, disappearing into the woods.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAYYYY IT'S FINALLY FINISHED ;AAAA; THIS STORY HAS BEEN A RIDICULOUSLY HUGE EFFORT. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S TAKEN ME THIS LONG TO FINISH IT.
> 
> Please tell me what you think! Was it too abrupt? It was too abrupt wasn't it... But Tao and Kris just wanted to have sex in the forest, okay, don't blame me.
> 
> Another shout-out to the original reason why I was even writing this: [candymaiden](candymaiden.livejournal.com), you lovely prompter, you, I don't even know if you're still reading this story, but I finally finished it. I hope you like it, and thank you for such a lovely prompt!


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